


Fools No More

by Golden_Asp



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Arguing, Bottom Leonardo, Flashbacks, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, POV Ezio Auditore da Firenze, but we love them, mentioned Ezio/Copernico, they are both idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:34:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25366930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Golden_Asp/pseuds/Golden_Asp
Summary: What a fool he’d been.How foolish they’d both been over the years.
Relationships: Ezio Auditore da Firenze/Leonardo da Vinci
Comments: 8
Kudos: 88





	Fools No More

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dark_Ruby_Regalia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dark_Ruby_Regalia/gifts).



> I recently decided to do a Platinum hunt on Assassin's Creed games (but like FUCK The Lost Archive bull shit). Not like I have much else to do. But anyway, I forgot how much I love Ezio and Leonardo's relationship and the first line of this hit me like brick to the face. I tried something a bit different than I normally do style wise and I am pretty pleased with how it turned out. This is pretty non linear and flashes between current sex scene and out of order flashbacks, but I think it flows pretty well.
> 
> All the Italian is from me doing my best to remember my college level Italian class and frantically flipping through my text book. 
> 
> I would love to know your thoughts. Thanks to Dark Ruby Regalia for letting me throw ideas at her.
> 
> not beta-ed

Ezio thrusts up into Leonardo, his feet planted firmly on the floor to give him more leverage and his hands gripping Leonardo’s waist. He can’t believe this is real, that this is happening. How long had he imagined this very moment? How long had he denied himself this—denied himself _Leonardo_ —all because he’d been convinced that Leonardo could never want him— _love_ him—in return?

What a fool he’d been. 

How foolish they’d both been over the years.

No more, Ezio thinks, driving into Leonardo’s body. Leonardo’s moan echos off the stone walls of the Tiber Island hideout and Ezio is damn glad that his assassins are all out on assignment. 

No one else gets to hear these noises from Leonardo. They are for Ezio and Ezio alone.

“Leonardo,” Ezio gasps, fingers tightening on Leonardo’s hips. Leonardo drops his head, sweat beading on his brow. His eyes are glazed but when they meet Ezio’s, he smiles. Ezio’s breath catches in his throat and he reaches up, cupping Leonardo’s cheek.

“Il mio amore,” he whispers. Leonardo’s face splits into a beautiful smile and he leans down, capturing Ezio’s lips in a kiss.

Ezio’s eyes slip closed, one hand threading through Leonardo’s hair.

Yes, what a fool he’d been.

But no more.

:::

Leonardo had an assistant. A beautiful assistant.

Ezio hated him immediately. The boy was loud, obnoxious, and clearly wasn’t as faithful to Leonardo as Leonardo was to him.

He wanted to wrap his hands around that long neck and squeeze until the light left Salaì’s eyes.

No, he wouldn’t do that. Leonardo would hate him and if there was one thing in the world that Ezio didn’t want, it was Leonardo to hate him. 

Leonardo was one of Ezio’s only friends outside the order. He could pretend he was a normal man with Leonardo.

Until he’d met that damn assistant.

Ezio watched from under his hood as Salaì sauntered into the workshop, late as usual, hands full of whatever Leonardo had sent him out to buy. Leonardo waved distractedly at the nearby table, face bent close to his newest creation.

Salaì huffed dramatically, setting the box down with a thud. He walked over to Leonardo and tilted the Maestro’s head up. Leonardo offered the younger man the same brilliant smile he had once offered Ezio and Salaì leaned down for a kiss.

Ezio stood silently, disappearing into the shadows, ignoring the ache in his chest.

He had long wondered if Leonardo preferred men, but he had never been brave enough to ask. He slipped out the door and into the crowds, wandering aimlessly from one group to another, the kiss replaying over and over in his mind.

Anger rose in him with each step. Why Salaì? Why that annoying, beautiful man? What could Leonardo ever see in Ezio? His body was a tapestry of scars and pain, of a hard life lived and most likely a violent, early death. There were many days Ezio was amazed he hadn’t died yet. 

With a roar that scattered the crowd he was in he bolted, running through the streets, trying to outpace the smirking visage of Salaì pressing his lips against Leonardo’s.

Ezio never could run fast enough.

:::

Leonardo groans as Ezio shifts inside him, finding that spot deep inside him with unerring accuracy. Ezio watches the flush spread across Leonardo’s cheeks, disappearing beneath the dark gold of his beard, down his neck, spreading across his chest like a rose in bloom.

“E-Ez-Ezio,” Leonardo whispers, his hands spread across Ezio’s chest. His fingers trace old and new scars, white flesh and healing red painted across the canvas of his chest. Ezio thrusts into him, eyes never leaving Leonardo’s face. Leonardo’s body is tight and hot around him, clenching and releasing around his length. 

“Leo…” Ezio says, fingers tightening on his waist.

Leonardo arches his back, his cock twitching and drawing Ezio’s gaze. Precome leaks from the slit, dripping onto Ezio’s toned stomach.

“Leo,” Ezio says again, pulling his lover down for an open mouthed kiss.

:::

“You have a family,” Ezio said, carrying Caterina through the Castel Sant’Angelo.

“It is not your family,” she said, one arm around his neck. She didn’t look at him when she said it. “That night at the Villa…I had to ensure our allegiance to protect Florì. Do you understand, Ezio?”

Ezio groaned and threw his arm over his eyes, blocking out his vision of the sky above the Tiber Island Hideout. 

“Of course I understand,” Ezio spat, glad that his sleeve covered his eyes. Not that there was anyone there to see him with tears on his face, but it was the principle of the thing. He couldn’t get Caterina’s words out of his mind. He couldn’t forget that night in the Villa, how passionate she’d been.

He’d been an idiot to think that she could truly love him. He was nothing but a political tool. He should’ve known better.

With a sigh he sat up, scrubbing at his face. He crawled down from the landing and opened the door to the hideout. His footsteps echoed as he walked down the stairs, shoulders hunched as he made his way to his small quarters. His eyes landed on the small trunk in the corner of his room and he picked it up and sat on the bed. The trunk had the possessions that he took everywhere with him, although most had not started out in the trunk. A single feather, taken from those he had given his younger brother and secreted away so he still had something of Petruccio. A letter from his father so he could look at his handwriting and try to remember his words. A rough, rather voluptuous sketch Frederico had gifted him as a joke. One of Leonardo’s stupid berets, stolen from the artist when he wasn’t looking. And the necklace he had once given Cristina. 

He sighed again, staring at the sad contents of the trunk. He was making himself morose. Caterina had fled, waiting for her city to be returned to her, leaving Ezio behind.

He had dreamed of having a family for so long. He had thought it would be with Cristina. He had loved her and she loved him, but it was not to be. He shook his head, chasing away the memories of her dying in his arms. Another person lost to him forever. 

He had hoped, nay, dreamed, that Caterina would let him join her family, but that was not to be.

He ran his thumb over the tarnished necklace that had graced Cristina’s neck for years before setting it back in the trunk and closing it, allowing his eyes to linger for half a second on the faded red beret.

There was no point in wallowing in misery. Family was not for him.

Love was not for him.

He stood up and walked out. He had work to do.

:::

They slow their movements, neither chasing the fire-rush of orgasm with the single mindedness of youth. Neither are young men anymore, as Ezio’s knees can attest.

Leonardo stares down at him, lips parted, cheeks flushed, and Ezio reaches up, fingers grazing his cheek. He takes in the sight of Leonardo da Vinci straddling him, riding him, hair mussed and eyes hazy. Ezio wants to commit this moment to his memory.

Leonardo smiles at him, slowing his movements as he rocks back and forth on Ezio’s length. Ezio chokes back a moan, eyes fluttering shut at the tight heat clenching around him.

“Fermati! If you keep that up, I won’t last,” Ezio gasps. Leonardo laughs, resting one hand on Ezio’s chest to feel his thundering heartbeat. His slender fingers trace designs Ezio has no hope of ever truly understanding across the canvas of his flesh.

“Are you saying that Ezio Auditore no longer has the staying power of his youth?” Leonardo teases, fingers caressing old scars.

“Are you calling me old?” Ezio says, mock outrage in his words.

“Un antico,” Leonardo says, grinning down at him.

“I’ll show you antique,” Ezio growls, using his strength to roll them. Leonardo laughs at the sudden change of positions, pupils blown wide in blue eyes. Ezio braces his arms on either side of Leonardo’s face, thumbs just barely tracing his skin.

Leonardo leans into the touch, turning his head to press a kiss to a scar on the pad of Ezio’s thumb. His hand comes to rest on Ezio’ side, covering an old, white scar. Ezio shudders at the touch, rolling his hips and making Leonardo scream his name.

:::

Ezio panted, curled into a ball in the corner of the courtyard. Blood covered his hand as he desperately tried to keep pressure on the wound.

He’d been stupid, overconfident. He thought he could take on six guards at once and they had shown him the mistake of his ways. It was only sheer fortuna that let him escape.

He grunted, digging into one of his many pouches. He had a sewing kit and it would have to do. He couldn’t risk leaving the safety of this courtyard to seek il dottore to stitch him back together; he would have to do it himself.

His hands shook as he undid his armor, wincing at the pain each movement caused. It took several tries to thread the needle and he wanted to cry with frustration.

It wasn’t fair. He was nineteen. He shouldn’t have to sew up his side!

He shouldn’t complain. He had a job to do and he was going to do it.

For his father, his brothers.

His uncle would find a way to raise him from the dead to kill him again if he died here.

Flinching, he positioned the needle above the long laceration and stabbed it through his flesh. He tasted blood in his mouth as he tried to stop himself from yelling.

It was fine. He could do this. It wasn’t like he had much of a choice. 

Footsteps made him pause and he pushed himself deeper into the shadows, heart beating so loudly he was sure the guards would hear it. 

He shifted his wrist, readying his hidden blade. He would have to fight his way out, then.

“Ezio?” a familiar voice said and Ezio nearly wept.

“Leonardo,” he said, his voice soft. Leonardo spun to face the sound of his voice, peering into the shadows. His eyes widened when he saw Ezio.

“Mio Dio, Ezio! What happened?” Leonardo said, stepping forward.

“How did you know I was here?”

“I didn’t,” Leonardo said, kneeling next to him and examining the wound in the dark. “You are in the courtyard of my workshop. I came out for a bit of fresh air and heard the sound of your blade engaging.”

“Ah,” Ezio said, slumping against the wall. Of course Leonardo would recognize the sound of the hidden blade being engaged.

Leonardo pressed his hand against Ezio’s sweaty brow, brushing back strands of dark hair. Ezio was out of it enough to lean into the touch, eyes half closed.

“It has been two years,” Leonardo murmured. “I thought you were long dead.”

Ezio shook his head. “Not for lack of trying.”

“So I see. You can tell me about it once you can walk on your own.”

“I can walk,” Ezio said, trying to push himself up only to slide down the wall, leaving a red stain behind.

“Tu vieni,” Leonardo said. “Let us get you inside and I will examine your wound.”

“Grazie,” Ezio said, closing his eyes as Leonardo helped him to his feet. He swayed dangerously as he was led to Leonardo’s workshop. Leonardo pushed him onto a table that Ezio was pretty sure had held multiple dead bodies. He only hoped he wasn’t about to give Leonardo another cadaver to cut open.

Leonardo shook his head at the sight of the needle halfway through Ezio’s skin.

“You are hopeless,” Leonardo said, not giving any warning before he yanked it out. Ezio yelped, eyes watering in pain. “Here, hold this there.” Leonardo made Ezio press a wad of cloth against the wound, absorbing the blood.

“You are lucky I have stitched up many bodies,” Leonardo said cheerfully, pulling out what seemed to be a tray of supplies. Ezio eyed them warily.

“Dead ones,” Ezio pointed out.

“Well yes,” Leonardo said, holding the needle above a flame. “That just means you mustn’t squirm while I do this.”

“Of course not,” Ezio said. “I would hate to give you another body to work on.”

Leonardo flashed him a smile and Ezio attributed the sudden jump in his heart rate to the sight of Leonardo with a needle. 

“Down,” Leonardo said, pushing on Ezio’s shoulder. Ezio spread out across the table, hissing as the wound stretched. “Bite down on this.”

Leonardo’s fingers grazed Ezio’s scarred lip and his mouth popped open in shock. Leonardo shoved a leather belt between his teeth.

“I must clean the wound first,” Leonardo said, one hand resting on Ezio’s hip. “I’m afraid this will hurt.”

“Just do it,” Ezio mumbled around the belt.

He blacked out at some point after Leonardo started scrubbing, fresh blood welling to the surface and running over Leonardo’s scratched wooden table. 

He woke hours—days?—later in Leonardo’s bed, a bandage around his waist and his clothes folded neatly beside his head.

:::

Their lips graze the other, sharing air as they move slowly in that oldest of dances. Fingers lace together, rough, scarred hands against calloused painter’s fingers. Ezio keeps his movements shallow and slow, Leonardo’s body welcoming him home.

He pauses, breathing hard, sweat beading along his spine. Leonardo runs his hands down Ezio’s back, blunt nails dragging red marks on sun-kissed skin. Ezio turns his head just enough to capture Leonardo’s lips, letting the older man take control of the kiss. Ezio closes his eyes and lets Leonardo roll them, taking his position straddling Ezio’s body.

Ezio forces his eyes open, not wanting to miss a moment, not wanting to miss the sight of Leonardo flushed with desire on his cock. Leonardo rocks back and forth, head falling back and Ezio’s name escaping his lips in a soft moan. 

Leonardo brings his head forward, gold hair falling across his face. He smiles down at Ezio, tracing scars and grazing Ezio’s nipples.

“Sei magnifico,” Leonardo says. 

Ezio grabs his fingers, pressing kisses to each digit. “Stop fantasizing about painting me.”

Leonardo laughs, squeezing around Ezio’s length and making him moan and buck. 

“Never, il mio amore,” Leonardo says. “Such perfection should be captured for generations to come.”

Ezio snorts, thrusting up into Leonardo to shut him up. Leonardo gives a breathless laugh, allowing Ezio to set the slow, deep pace between them. He leans forward and they breathe in each other, their lips finally coming together in a kiss.

:::

Ezio stood in the corner of the main hall of the hideout, blending with the shadows. His eyes roved over the gathered assassins, thieves, courtesans, and mercenaries; those that had helped him bring the Borgias down. Claudia stood speaking to La Volpe. Her eyes met his across the room and he inclined his head.

Their relationship was still strained at best, though it had been improving since they had brought her into the Order. Like him, she was not made for a normal life. He remembered beating up her cheating suitor so many years ago, back when all she seemed to care about was boys and status.

He wouldn’t have to worry about having to beat up any possible suitors anymore; she would and could take care of herself.

A familiar laugh drew his gaze and his heart did a funny flutter that he would forever deny. Leonardo spoke to Machiavelli, the two deep in discussion about something. Salaì played dice with the thieves and Ezio swallowed back his ire at seeing the beautiful boy again. 

He turned away, eyes running over the rest of the gathering. His recruits, his assassins, moved through the crowd, speaking easily to everyone.

He felt a pang and turned, slipping unnoticed through the crowd. He walked up the stairs and pushed open the door to the leap of faith landing. He sat on the perch, feet dangling over the edge. 

He was lonely. Even surrounded by all those who were closest to him, he felt alone. Everyone in there, even his recruits, had something outside the order. Some even had families. Claudia had turned the Rosa into the most profitable bordello in all of Roma, possibly even Italia. Machiavelli did whatever he did when he wasn’t pointing out targets; writing a book about Ezio, apparently. La Volpe had his thieves, his business. Bartolomeo led his battles and had his wife, who was with child if Ezio was correct. 

And Leonardo…

Leonardo had Salaì. He had his art, his inventions. He had that infuriating, beautiful boy.

Ezio closed his eyes, blocking out the sight of the city spread below him. Rage still rose in him whenever he thought about that cult beating gentle, kind Leonardo black and blue. Rage overtook him when he remembered Salaì’s words before he set off to find him.

“Bring him back to me.”

“Merda,” Ezio cursed, opening his eyes. 

Who did he have?

No one. His assassins held him above them, staring at him like he was different, special. Claudia didn’t need him, his mother still stayed with Claudia and he rarely saw her.

He had nothing but killing and death, nothing but the Order and the Creed.

“Nothing is true. Everything is permitted,” he muttered to himself, flicking his wrists to make the hidden blades snap out. 

“If only that were true,” a voice said from behind him.

Ezio jumped, nearly falling off his perch. His fingers scrabbled against the wood and he yanked himself back, staring wide-eyed at Leonardo.

“What?” Ezio asked, dragging himself up and away from the ledge. He didn’t like Leonardo being that close to such a drop. 

“If only everything were permitted, eh?” Leonardo said, standing next to Ezio. Ezio swallowed, letting his eyes roam over his oldest friend. 

Ezio didn’t know what to say so he didn’t say anything, following Leonardo’s gaze to look at Roma. 

“A beautiful sight,” Leonardo said.

“It stinks,” Ezio said, startling a laugh from Leonardo.

“All cities stink, mio amico,” Leonardo said. 

“Si, countless people shoved into close quarters and shitting everywhere.”

“You are maudlin tonight,” Leonardo said. “At least the Tiber smells better than the canals of Venezia.”

“There is that,” Ezio admitted grudgingly. He had gotten rid of the armor he’d used while in Venezia; he’d never been able to get rid of the stink of that water.

“What are you doing out here alone?” Leonardo asked. “It is, as they say, your party.”

Ezio shrugged again. “I am the Mentor,” he said, almost bitterly. “No one wants the head of the Order at the party.”

Leonardo frowned at him, the breeze ruffling his hair.

They stood in silence, the muffled sounds of the city dancing around them in the breeze.

“Why did you tell Salaì so much about me?” Ezio asked, staring across the city to the distant Castel Sant’Angelo.

“What do you mean?”

Ezio grunted. “He knew about my…gift. My eagle vision. He knew about the Apple, Leonardo.”

“I trust him,” Leonardo said. 

“Did it not occur to you that I told you some of those things in confidence?” Ezio asked, not looking at Leonardo. 

“Salaì would not betray my trust,” Leonardo said.

Ezio made a disgruntled noise. He didn’t know why he was bringing this up now, a year after rescuing Leonardo from the depths of the temple. 

“I do not understand why the two of you dislike each other so much,” Leonardo said. Ezio thought about the time he had seen Salaì kiss Leonardo, how his gut had twisted with jealously and hatred, how Salaì had smirked at him, meeting his eyes across the room as Leonardo lost himself in the younger man’s kiss.

“It is nothing,” Ezio said. “Forget I said anything. Grazie again for your help these past few years.”

Leonardo made a noncommittal noise, still staring at Ezio. Ezio looked out over the city, trying not to fall into the pit of loneliness and despair that seemed to follow him wherever he went.

:::

“Leonardo, Leonardo,” Ezio whispers, rocking his hips into his lover. Leonardo pants, moaning Ezio’s name.

“Ti amo, ti amo,” Ezio says, repeating the words and Leonardo’s name like a mantra.

Even now, as close as two men can be, Ezio needs Leonardo to know.

“Ti amo, solo tu,” Ezio says. “Solo tu.”

:::

The moon hung fat and heavy in the sky, the strange eclipse long since over. Ezio hadn’t meant to stay for it, but Niccolò’s enthusiasm for it had drawn him in.

He listened as the much younger man spoke rapidly of thing Ezio could barely understand. His passion for his subject made Ezio smile sadly and he had been caught.

“You saved my life, signore,” Niccolò said, watching him. “Even though I admitted to you that I have affiliations with the order you hate.”

Ezio shrugged, staring up at the bright moon. “The pursuit of knowledge should not be hidden or punished.”

“Then I thank you again. For saving my life and staying to watch the eclipse with me.”

“It was a beautiful sight,” Ezio said, pulling his gaze away from the moon to meet Niccolò Copernico’s eyes. He stared at the younger man, his sparse facial hair stark against his pale skin in the moon. Ezio swallowed, turning away. 

He knew why he had saved Copernico, why he had rushed to the young scholar’s aid, rushed across the city to deliver letters to scholars, why he had killed for the man.

He reminded him of Leonardo.

His passion for his subject, how excited he got when talking about it, wanting to pass that knowledge on to others.

Ezio hadn’t seen Leonardo in a long time and was surprised by the sudden and intense longing for his oldest friend. He felt a hand on his arm and turned to find Niccolò much closer than before. 

“I think there is more to it than that,” he said. “But your secrets are your own.”

Ezio smiled slightly at him and Niccolò searched his face. Ezio wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but the young man must’ve found it. When soft lips pressed against his, Ezio opened his mouth, pulling the scholar to him. It had been frantic, intense, right there on the outskirts of Roma beneath the stars and moon, the old gods looking down on them as they moved together.

Ezio had been very careful to cry to the correct name when he spilled into Niccolò’s body. They stayed tangled together until their sweat began to dry and Niccolò pulled away, reaching for his trousers and tunic. Ezio watched him, languid and naked in the moonlight.

Niccolò turned to look at him, pulling his tunic back on and hiding the marks Ezio had left on his pale skin.

“I hope you find what you are looking for,” he said, kneeling next to Ezio and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Grazie, Ezio, for everything.”

“Prego,” Ezio said, voice soft.

Niccolò smiled at him again and walked away, disappearing into the darkness. Ezio sat up and tugged his trousers on, sitting alone surrounded by the bodies of the men he’d killed. He ran his fingers over the old scar on his side, the first one of many that Leonardo had stitched up for him.

He imagined Leonardo spread out on the grass before him, gold hair glinting in the moonlight, calling his name as Ezio thrust into him.

Or maybe Leonardo would push him down, slide into his body, take control. Ezio thought he could allow Leonardo that. Only Leonardo.

Niccolò hadn’t been the first man Ezio had lain with, though he had been the first not to bear a passing resemblance to Leonardo, at least physically. 

Ezio sighed, leaning against a ruined column. It didn’t matter. Leonardo would never find out about his feelings, and even if he did, he wouldn’t return them. Ezio had seen the young men that frequented Leonardo’s workshop. He knew that the young assistant known as Salaì held a particularly close spot to Leonardo.

Ezio closed his eyes, breathing deeply. He’d recently received word that another of Leonardo’s war machines had been located. He would lock down his feelings once again and head out, hating to destroy Leonardo’s work but unwilling to let the Borgias and the Templars keep them.

:::

“Ezio, Ezio,” Leonardo says, cock twitching and leaking. Ezio stares, watching the thin, clear fluid leak from the slit of Leonardo’s cock into his stomach. Leonardo won’t last much longer, and neither will Ezio.

“I’ve waited too long for this for it to be over so soon,” Ezio growls, making Leonardo laugh and flutter around his length. 

“So fast? Ezio, tesoro mio, we’ve been at this for hours!”

“Are you complaining?”

“Never,” Leonardo gasps, back bowing as Ezio drives up into him.

“Molto bene,” Ezio says, grinning up at him. Leonardo laughs and Ezio wishes he could bottle the sound and carry it with him wherever life takes him.

:::

Ezio slumped against the table in Leonardo’s workshop, breathing hard as Leonardo once again stitched up a wound.

“You need to be more careful,” Leonardo murmured. Ezio grunted, eyes clenched shut and sweat dripping down his brow. 

Leonardo worked in silence, slowly sewing the long laceration down Ezio’s thigh back together.

“Did you see the eclipse last month?” Leonardo asked, making Ezio twitch.

“Ah, si, I did.”

Leonardo hummed. “Magnifica, was it not?”

Ezio swallowed, heart pounding. Did Leonardo know about Niccolò?

“Si, it was.”

“Did you watch alone?”

“No,” Ezio said. “I rescued a young scholar from Templar killers and he watched it with me.”

Leonardo hummed again, finishing the last stitch. Ezio stood and quickly pulled on his armor, wanting at least the illusion of safety while he tried to figure out where Leonardo was going with this line of questioning.

“Copernico, yes?”

Ezio nodded slowly, fastening his belt.

“He told me—”

Ezio jerked away, staring in horror at Leonardo. “He told you we laid together?”

Leonardo arched his eyebrow. “Fascinating. I did not know you preferred the company of younger men.”

Ezio stepped back as if struck. What was happening? He heard the door open and his eyes darted to the side, taking in Salaì standing there with whatever delivery Leonardo had sent him for.

“You can’t judge me on that,” Ezio said, glancing at Salaì and then back at Leonardo.

“I just want to know why you didn’t tell me,” Leonardo said, pressing forward. “I am your friend, Ezio. Why Copernico?”

“That is my business,” Ezio said, hastily putting his armor on. He had to get out. Maybe there was a mission that required him to go far away. “You never told me outright,” Ezio said.

“But I never denied it. You knew, in the temple, you knew that Salaì is my lover and you said you approved.”

Ezio snarled, spinning away. He felt something tear and he was pretty sure he had torn his stitches open but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“You said he fits me,” Leonardo said. “I would not imagine Copernico fitting you, Ezio.”

Ezio paced, a deadly beast trapped in a cage. Salaì stared at him, that smirk on his face making Ezio want to drive the hidden blade into his ear. 

“Ezio!”

“I lied,” Ezio said, going still. He stared at Leonardo, shoulders heaving as he tried to catch his breath. He felt like he was running across the rooftops, he felt like he was falling and there wasn’t going to be a safe landing, not this time.

“What?” Leonardo asked.

“I lied,” Ezio spat, spinning away.

There was a beat of silence.

“Why?”

“Don’t,” Ezio said. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does. Why lie to me, and why have sex with Copernico?”

Ezio wanted to ask if Leonardo was jealous, but he was afraid of the answer. 

Ezio shook his head.

“I was lonely and he was willing. It meant nothing.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Then I don’t know what to tell you.”

“The truth would be nice!” Leonardo said.

Ezio rounded on him, eyes blazing as his hood slipped off his head.

“He reminded me of you!” Ezio roared.

Leonardo stepped back, eyes widening in surprise.

“He reminded me of you,” Ezio said again. Leonardo didn’t move. “Every man I have ever been with was a sorry approximation of you, Maestro da Vinci. Niccolò was perhaps the closest, though there is no love between us.”

“Every…man?” Leonardo asked.

Ezio ran his fingers through his hair. He could feel blood seeping through his trousers but he didn’t care. He would get one of La Volpe’s people to look at it later.

“Every single one,” Ezio said flatly. “Since I was nineteen. Now, buona notte, Maestro.”

With that, Ezio shoved past Salaì, taking brutal pleasure in the pained gasp of the young man hitting the door frame.

He heard Leonardo’s footsteps follow him and he limped faster, yanking open the door.

“Ezio, wait!” Leonardo yelled.

Ezio ran, unable to face the ruins of his one true friendship.

:::

“Ezio,” Leonardo whispers, caressing Ezio’s cheek. “I am not going to last much longer.”

“Bene,” Ezio says, hovering close to the edge himself. “Together.”

“Together.”

:::

Ezio let himself into Leonardo’s Roma workshop, pushing the hood off his head. It was mostly empty and his shoulders slumped at the realization. Of course Leonardo was gone. It had been two years since their admittedly one-sided fight. He hadn’t actually thought Leonardo would stay, had he?

He groaned, sitting down at one of the tables. He rested his head in his hands, fingers curled through slowly graying hair. 

He wanted to apologize, and now it seemed he would never get the chance. 

Maybe he should leave Roma, leave Italy. The Brotherhood didn’t really need him; the Assassins were well established throughout many cities and his recruits were all masters themselves. 

Ezio lifted his head and looked around. Maybe he could find something to take with him, to remind him of Leonardo.

His eyes landed on a sheaf of papers in a wooden box, perhaps waiting to be packed and delivered to wherever Leonardo was going. Leonardo would not miss one drawing, surely.

Ezio stood and walked over to it, pulling out some of the drawings.

It took a moment for him to realize just what he was looking at.

On every single page, his own face stared back at him. There was his face, much less lined, the scar across his lip fresh and vivid. There was his hands, the hidden blades on and extended. His back, far less scarred than it was now. The curve of his arm, a smirking smile, mid-kill, looking deadly and beautiful in Leonardo’s hand.

“So, you found it,” a familiar voice came from behind him.

Ezio whirled, panic swelling inside him. No one had snuck up on him in a very long time. He just managed to stay his blade, staring with wide eyes at Leonardo.

Leonardo tilted his head, intelligent blue eyes watching him. Leonardo looked good, healthy. The past two years had been good to him. Ezio knew he didn’t look half as healthy as Leonardo.

“You are a very difficult man to find,” Leonardo said, stepping up next to him.

Ezio swallowed hard. “Assassin,” he whispered.

“Si, si. One with the shadows, and all that.”

Ezio took a step back, overwhelmed. “You…tried to find me?” Ezio had gone across Italia to set up more cells, to search for legends and stories of their order. He had run away from Leonardo, from his own words.

“Of course I did. Even Machiavelli had no idea where you were half the time.” Leonardo ran his fingers across one of the many sketches of Ezio.

“I didn’t think you would want to see me again, not after…” Ezio gave a helpless shrug. 

“I have told you before and I will tell you again, you are always welcome wherever I am, Ezio.”

Ezio bowed his head, eyes stinging with tears. 

“I do not deserve your kindness,” Ezio whispered.

He just managed to stop himself from engaging the hidden blade when Leonardo placed his hand on Ezio’s shoulder.

“What a pair of idioti we’ve been,” Leonardo said. Ezio looked at him, confused.

“Leonardo? I don’t understand.”

Leonardo sighed again and Ezio went completely still when the older man slid his hand down Ezio’s arm and took his hand, tracing the scars there.

“Ezio, I have wanted you for a very long time. It turned into love in Venezia, perhaps on the boat ride there, but I never imagined you would want to be with a man who had been accused of sodomy. I most certainly didn’t imagine you…”

“Liked men as well as women?” Ezio asked, still staring at their hands.

“Si.”

Ezio wondered if he had taken a blow to the head in his last fight. Surely this couldn’t be happening? He turned his attention back to the sketches, turning over another. There was his face, livid anger and hurt captured in every line. He went still, tracing the edges of his jaw and didn’t look at Leonardo. 

This must’ve been how he looked when he was yelling at Leonardo, telling him that he only slept with men that reminded him of the artist. 

“You are beautiful even in anger,” Leonardo said, squeezing the hand he held between both of his.

“I said terrible things to you.”

“You really didn’t. If you were truly angry, you would’ve done far more than bruise Salaì’s shoulder when you pushed him into the door. I have seen your work up close, Ezio. You are deadly and efficient.”

“I am not certain that is a compliment,” Ezio said, cautious hope in his voice.

“It is. Salaì was fine.”

Ezio swallowed hard. “And where is he?”

“France,” Leonardo said, not offering any more. Ezio didn’t ask. He didn’t really want to know. 

“You love me?” Ezio said suddenly, Leonardo’s earlier words finally penetrating his skull.

Leonardo arched his eyebrow, lifting Ezio’s hand to his mouth and pressing a kiss to his scarred knuckles.

“I have for a very long time, Ezio.”

“I did not think you could love me,” Ezio admitted, eyes drawn to Leonardo’s lips. What would he taste like?

“Why not?” Leonardo asked.

“I am a killer. You are…beautiful and full of life. You deserve someone beautiful.”

“Salaì is beautiful, but he is an idiot,” Leonardo said. Ezio choked on his spit, eyes widening as he stared at Leonardo in shock.

Leonardo’s lips twitched in a smile.

“Perhaps, if a young man doing an errand for his mother hadn’t stolen my breath many years ago Salaì and I could have really had something. If that same young man hadn’t tried to find the good in people, even as he was forced to do dark work hadn’t cradled my heart in his hands, I could’ve found love with someone else. But there was only you, Ezio. Only ever you.”

Ezio stared at him. In his forty years, he wasn’t sure he’d ever been shocked to silence before, but he was now. 

Leonardo laughed and Ezio ached. It had been so long since he had heard that laugh. He wanted to capture it, hide it away, treasure it. Leonardo’s hand cupped his cheek, thumb tracing the old scar on his lip.

“Ezio, it generally helps if you say something in return.”

“I have loved you forever,” Ezio said, voice rough. 

“Motlo bene,” Leonardo said, hand moving to cradle the back of Ezio’s head. Their lips touched and Ezio thought his heart was going to beat out of his chest. He leaned into the kiss, opening himself to Leonardo and letting him take control.

Leonardo pulled back minutes or hours later, lips swollen and cheeks flushed. “I have dreamed about that for a very long time.”

Ezio nodded, eyes lidded as he looked at Leonardo. He held his hand out and Leonardo took it.

“The hideout is empty,” Ezio said. “Come with me.”

It was soft, a question more than a statement. 

Leonardo smiled. “Wherever you go.”

:::

“Ezio, Ezio,” Leonardo cries, head flinging back. Ezio drives into him, chasing Leonardo to the edge of the abyss.

“Leonardo!” Ezio moans, pressing his mouth, his lips, his teeth, against Leonardo’s thundering pulse. Leonardo’s hands claw at his back, sliding through sweat and over rough scars. Ezio’s breath hitches and he reaches between them, desperate to see Leonardo reach completion first. 

He knows his hand is rough and Leonardo cries out, bucking into his touch and writhing on his length. 

“Ezio!” Leonardo shouts, body going taut and cock pulsing in Ezio’s hand. Ezio says his name over and over as he thrusts into Leonardo’s body, his tight channel fluttering around him as Leonardo tumbles over the edge. Ezio watches in awe as his hand is covered by Leonardo’s come, dripping down his fingers to the older man’s stomach.

“Leo,” Ezio murmurs, doubling his pace. Leonardo howls as Ezio chases his own orgasm, legs wrapping around Ezio’s waist. Ezio nudges Leonardo’s jaw with his nose and seals their lips together as he follows Leonardo into the abyss of orgasm. He drives himself as deep as he can in Leonardo’s body as he comes, painting his inner walls with his seed.

The kiss turns slow and heady, mouths open and tongues gliding against the other. Ezio stays buried inside Leonardo, long after he’s finished. He never wants to leave this moment.

They stay there, curled together and entwined in the most intimate of ways. They touch each other, fingers tracing designs on skin and trading soft kisses.

Many hours later, Leonardo sleeps against Ezio’s side, their legs tangled together and Leonardo’s head resting on Ezio’s chest. Ezio buries his fingers in Leonardo’s hair, inhaling the scent of him. He presses a soft kiss against Leonardo’s hair, eyes sliding closed as the candle burns down to nothing.

“Ti amo,” Ezio whispers. “I love you.”

He closes his eyes, and for the first time in many years, he sleeps peacefully through the night.

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos are love!


End file.
